


A Night at the Museum

by chibi_nightowl



Series: A Diamond in the Rough [2]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Antigone the Cat, Art appreciation, Language, M/M, Random Art and Book References, Romance, Security Guard!Jason, Stray!Tim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-06 00:56:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13400010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibi_nightowl/pseuds/chibi_nightowl
Summary: “Hello, Jason,” Stray purrs in his ear. “Fancy meeting you here.”Jason’s heart about stops in his chest and it’s all he can do to not shout in surprise. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he snaps instead, trying to cover up his lapse. “I’m working.” Another thought occurs to him. “Shit, please tell me you’re not here to steal something. Can you at least wait until tomorrow night when I’m off so I don’t get sacked?”





	A Night at the Museum

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo...I swore up and down I would not write more of this universe, but plot bunnies are horrible and I just need more Security Guard Jason in my life.

The first thing Jason notices about this temporary gig is just how _quiet_ it is in the museum at night. He’s used to no one being around when he wanders the halls at Wayne Pharmaceuticals, the low thrum of server rooms and various other machines keeping him company. But this place? It’s _silent_ , rather like how he imagines a grave would be.

But what throws him off even more is how sound echoes differently in these wide halls. It’s even worse in the vaulted chambers. The first night, he’d dropped his flashlight and nearly gave himself a heart attack. 

Still, Jason appreciates the change in scenery. A special traveling art exhibit is currently in Gotham and one of its main corporate sponsors is Wayne Enterprises. Apparently, that sponsorship includes some influence over the security detail and he found himself tapped on the shoulder for a special six-week assignment. This is fine with him even though he can’t help but wonder how his name came up after that fuck-up a few months ago with Stray. 

Stray. He’s seen the man several times since that first night, always in his apartment where he tries to sway Antigone over to the dark side while Jason makes breakfast for them. The man has a healthy appreciation for his cooking, but his weakness seems to be homemade bread. A couple years ago, Jason picked up a bread-machine at a thrift store for cheap and thought he’d give it a whirl. 

Store bought bread has never reappeared in his kitchen since. 

The cat is allowed to make toast when he tries to _help_ Jason in his small kitchen, but he usually spends more time trying to distract him by wrapping that lean body of his around his own. 

Invader of personal space, thy name is Stray. 

Jason recognizes it for what it was, two people slowly, even carefully, learning more about each other, but what still confuses him most is _why him?_ He’s no one special. About the most interesting thing about him is that he comes from Crime Alley and managed to survive to adulthood without joining a gang or selling drugs. Stray lets little things drop about himself, but it’s hard to tell if they’re true or not. He wants them to be. It would be nice if they were. 

Stray is addicted to caffeine (this one he knows is cold, hard _fact_ ). He loves computers and gadgets and little things he can tinker with. A book has to be on a tablet for him to read it (to which Jason threw his copy of _The Lies of Locke Lamora_ at him and told him to suck it up, buttercup; he still hasn’t gotten the book back and it’s been a month now). He has a passion for photography, which is how he crossed paths with Catwoman in the first place when he was younger. 

There’s no doubt in his mind that Stray is cataloging all the little things he says and does too. 

Jason shakes his head and tries to focus on the task at hand. He’s at work and even if nothing is going on, that doesn’t mean he has to let his mind wander. He learned his lesson about what happens when he’s distracted on the job. 

But the Gotham Metropolitan Museum of Art is massive and while he only has a few specific galleries assigned to him, as soon as he leaves one, he’d never know what would be going on behind him if someone were to sneak in and wander around. Someone like Stray who Jason can totally see doing it just to mess with his head. 

It’s been three weeks though since he’s seen hide or hair of the damn cat, even outside of the museum. There’s been nothing on the news about his capture, so Jason can only assume it’s something else. Or that he’s lost interest, which makes a hell of a lot more sense, even if it does hurt. A fascinating little bauble for the man to play with, batting him here and there, slowly growing more and more displeased when the toy doesn’t do anything more interesting than make bread and read books. 

Whatever. Jason takes a slow, deep breath, trying to calm his rising ire. He’s got nothing to be pissed about. There’s nothing between them. _Nothing_. If anything, the only thing he has a right to be mad about is that he’s not getting his book back. 

God, this sucks. He wants to say he wished he’d never met Stray, but he knows all too well that’s a lie. The man is fascinating, drawing his attention like no one ever has before. Forbidden fruit and all that since it’s not like he’ll ever know who he is under those goggles. 

Jason growls low as he strides into the next dimly lit gallery. This one houses the special exhibit, a collection of Monet and other Impressionist artists. He’s never held much appreciation for art before but one of the classes he’d taken last year had been art history (it was easier to fulfill his fine arts credits this way than sit around watching old movies he could barely pay attention to) so he has a least an idea of the stories behind the artists. But as he spends more time here and studies each painting, he finds they’re growing on him. 

He stops in front of a Van Gogh, the small sign below stating its title is _Landscape with Snow_ and a little history about the painting. It’s on loan from the famous Guggenheim Museum in New York for the exhibit. Jason likes it because it’s not all flowers and trees. It’s rural, but somehow feels more realistic. 

So intent is he on the painting that he doesn’t notice a darkly clad figure approaching until he feels a familiar warmth wrapping itself around him. “Hello, Jason,” Stray purrs in his ear. “Fancy meeting you here.” 

Jason’s heart about stops in his chest and it’s all he can do to not shout in surprise. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he snaps instead, trying to cover up his lapse. “I’m _working._ ” Another thought occurs to him. “Shit, please tell me you’re not here to steal something. Can you at least wait until tomorrow night when I’m off so I don’t get sacked?” 

“You didn’t get sacked last time, did you?” 

“No, but this is different. This is…” he gestures to everything around them. “This is _history_. And _money_. There’s millions of dollars of art in this room. Not like whatever it was you stole from Wayne Pharma.” 

“I keep telling you I didn’t steal anything that night,” Stray replies, the tips of his nails digging into Jason’s side for a moment to emphasize his point. “Just as I’m not here to steal anything tonight.” 

Jason twists and looks down at the shorter man plastered against his side. There’s an impish looking smile on his lips, one that doesn’t appear to bode well for him. “Do I need to remind you that this room has more security cameras right now than any other gallery in this place?” 

The smile grows. “And do I need to remind you that I’m a master thief who isn’t deterred by technology? It was child’s play to loop the cameras using footage of you from the last few nights.” 

That’s…Jason groans and closes his eyes. “Why are you doing this to me?” he asks plaintively. He can’t help it. Here he’s been wondering for the better part of two weeks about Stray and his lack of visits and now he’s right here next to him and all Jason wants is for him to leave. 

“What? I haven’t seen you in three weeks.” Stray taps the tip of one of his claws against Jason’s bottom lip. “I’ve been out of town on business. This is my first night back.” 

“Okay,” Jason says slowly, still not understanding. “Why go to the effort of coming here then when my apartment is so much easier to break into?” 

The claw moves up to tap his nose. “You’re worth the effort,” Stray replies simply. 

What? Jason blinks, feeling rather taken aback. All his worries and doubts should be alleviated by the man’s words, but he still doesn’t understand what is so fascinating about him that someone like Stray keeps coming around. “You just like Tig,” he tries to deflect. 

“I do like Antigone,” Stray says as he worms even closer, pulling Jason’s hands over his leather clad waist to hold him tight. The leather is warm under his hands and it’s completely involuntary when his fingers dig into the man’s lower back, just above the curve of his bottom. Stray purrs in happiness as he keeps talking. “But I’ll let you in on a little secret. I like her owner more.” 

Jason can’t help the little agonized sound his throat makes. “Why?” he asks. “You…you hang out with people like Catwoman, Nightwing, hell, I even remember seeing something on the news about you and Superboy. I’m…I’m just me. I’m not anyone special.” 

“You are special,” Stray replies. His arms wrap themselves around Jason’s neck, pulling his head down a few inches so they’re face to face. “I’m a thief, remember? I know special when I see it. And you…you are very special.” His breath is warm as his lips ghost ever so slightly over Jason’s mouth, just as he did that first morning back in his apartment. A soft touch that hasn’t been repeated since, leaving him wondering if it ever happened at all. 

This is real, Jason realizes as his brain comes back online. Here he is in his still too thin winter Wayne Security uniform with the one of the greatest thieves in the world in his arms. His fingers twitch again over the warm leather and Stray arches into the touch. Jason may not be able to see his eyes, but he reads the invitation loud and clear. 

Their mouths crash together, no more of the soft gentle whispers that Stray apparently loves to tease him with. This, this is all the heat, fire, and passion that Jason’s been suppressing for the last few months. Previous partners have told him he’s too intense, but Stray is not backing down, giving just as good as he’s getting. Clawed fingers carefully run through his hair, the tips of which cause his scalp to tingle. He tastes coffee, bitter and dark, when he chases Stray’s tongue back into his mouth. Even with his schedule, it’s not something Jason ever resorts to. 

His schedule…Fuck. 

Jason tears himself away from Stray, letting go and taking a step back for good measure. The man’s hands trail down his arms. “What is it?” he asks, lips shiny in the dim light. 

“I’m on the clock. On a schedule. If I don’t check in at the right times…” he looks at his watch and his knees actually wobble in relief when he sees he still has five minutes to go. 

Stray pouts prettily, but he lets go of Jason’s jacket. “To be continued then.” The pout turns into a grin and before Jason can process it, he’s gone. 

The rest of the night passes in an uneventful blur. By the time he’s off in the morning, Jason has half convinced himself he daydreamed the entire encounter. It wouldn’t be the first time he lost himself in a fantasy as he roamed the halls at night, but the lingering sting on his head reminds him it was real. 

As per his usual on payday, Jason stops by the grocery store on his way home, purchasing a can of tuna for Antigone on a whim. It’s not something he does often, but he’s in a good mood dammit, so his cat deserves to share in that. He’s off tonight too, which makes him wonder if he’ll have a visit from a certain cat-burglar. 

Laden down with groceries, Jason fumbles with the locks on his apartment door. He swears when he misses one of the keyholes but after a moment, he hears the locks opening from the inside. Eyes wide, he stares as the door opens, revealing Stray. 

“What the?” he manages to say but then his brain kicks in again and he enters, the door closing and locking behind him. 

“I did say _to be continued_ ,” the man replies as he takes some of the grocery bags from Jason and heads into the kitchen with them. 

“Yeah, but I didn’t think it would be this soon.” 

“Is it too soon?” Stray asks, looking back over his shoulder. He sets the bags on the counter. “I got the impression earlier that you were just as eager as I am.” 

Jason opens his mouth but Antigone meows imperiously from her spot on the back of his sofa. She likes the high places, the better to stare down at her lowly human (at least in his opinion). The last thing he needs is his cat getting in the way so he heads to the small kitchen to get her food. 

“I fed her already,” Stray says while he starts emptying out the bags. He may be impossible at cooking but he knows where Jason keeps everything. This is feeling oddly domestic. Which shouldn’t be possible considering he has no idea what the man even looks like, aside from his pretty mouth and leanly muscled body. 

Jason looks back over at his cat rather than face Stray. “You’re already begging for another meal? You’re gonna get fat, Tig.” 

The white cat meows again and deigns to jump off the back of the couch to join them in the small space, weaving between his legs and leaving fur on his slacks. Jason mock glares down at her. “Thanks. Really. I love having to use a lint brush all the time.” 

But he still picks her up and holds her close against his chest, just like he did when she was a kitten and so weak that he had to spoon feed her. It’s her favorite position and she bops her head under his chin to show her appreciation. There will be white fur all over his clothes, but right now, Jason doesn’t care. 

“See? She still loves you more than me,” Stray says, bending over to place eggs and milk in the fridge. Every line of his body is revealed in that skintight suit of his and Jason can’t help but stare, just like he does (and usually tries to hide) every time they meet. 

They’re about to enter new territory and while it’s exciting, it’s also a bit frightening. Who is this man who’s wormed his way into his boring little life? 

“Keep giving her tuna and that’ll change fast.” He can smell it ever so faintly under the scent of a candle he knows he doesn’t own burning on the coffee table. It’s something citrusy, which is refreshing after his long night. 

Stray smiles as he straightens, preening slightly under Jason’s open gaze. “I doubt it.” 

This is starting to become a little much. “You hungry?” he asks, trying to deflect yet again. He’s good at it. 

“Sure,” the man replies and Jason drops Antigone into his open arms without another word. He takes off his jacket, drapes it over one of his folding chairs, and rolls up the sleeves of his white dress shirt. 

Food is safe. Cooking is good. It helps him focus and gives him something to concentrate on while Stray stands off to the side, gently stroking Antigone with those long nailed gloves of his. 

They eat in relative silence, his cat stalking off once she realizes neither man will give her any sausage. 

But all too soon, there’s no more room to evade. 

“You’re nervous,” Stray announces, hands on hips where he stands in the entrance of the narrow kitchen while Jason finishes the dishes. 

He wipes his hands on a thin towel and scowls. “Yeah. I am.” 

“Why?” 

“Why?” Jason asks incredulously. He’s had all night to think about this, so the words just spill out. “Because you’re you. I’m not gonna repeat the argument about the crowd you run with, but I will remind you that I’m me. I’m a fucking night security guard who takes community college classes in hopes of at least getting a somewhat more respectable job in this shit-hole town. I don’t even know who you are.” That last part slips out before he realizes it and Jason clamps his mouth shut tight and curses himself. “Shit,” he says, sucking in a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I have no right to even ask you that.” 

Even if it would be nice to know who he’s about to have sex with. He half believes he’ll be blindfolded or something the entire time. Not the kinkiest thing he’s ever done, but whatever. 

But Stray surprises him, smiling that secretive little smile of his as he closes the few feet between them. The overhead light is the only light in the small apartment, all the windows covered in blackout curtains to make it easier for Jason to sleep during the day. 

“Contrary to popular opinion, I don’t sleep with just anybody,” Stray says, his head tilted back ever so slightly to gaze up at him. “And when I do, I like to be able to look them in the eyes.” 

With that, Stray slides his goggles up and over his forehead, revealing a pair of the bluest eyes Jason has ever seen. It takes a moment for him to take in the rest and when he absorbs the fine features, the high cheekbones, and the clean swoosh of dark eyebrows, he’s completely taken aback because he _knows this face._ He’s seen it on the covers of magazines, of the _Gotham Gazette_. Hell, he’d even seen it once a couple months ago when he pulled a day shift to cover someone at work. That was the day the young heir of Drake Industries came to Wayne Pharmaceuticals to meet with Bruce Wayne about some business deal that had absolutely zero impact on Jason. 

The man in front of him pushes back his cowl and shakes out black hair that’s been flattened horribly by spending too much time pressed against his skull. His goggles hang loosely in one hand. 

“You’re Timothy Drake,” Jason says numbly. It’s a lot to take in, especially when one of the most famous faces in Gotham is staring back at him. “Holy fuck. Does your dad have _any_ idea of what you do at night?” 

“I prefer Tim,” he replies easily, a massive grin blossoming on his face. “And no, he doesn’t. Also, props to you for saying the absolute last thing I thought would come out of your mouth.” 

“I strive to be original.” 

“I know,” Tim raises his free hand and cups the side of Jason’s face. He can feel the press of those claws at his hairline. “It’s a very attractive trait. As is the rest of the package.” Blue eyes appreciatively rake up and down his body. 

Christ. This is really happening. “So what now? I need to sign an NDA or somethin’?” 

The shorter man chuckles at that. “No. I know you won’t say anything. As for the first part…” Tim rises up on his toes and kisses him hungrily. 

Jason finds his hands at the man’s waist again, this time dropping lower to grasp the firm flesh of his ass. He hears the clatter of goggles hitting the floor and then Tim’s other hand holds him firmly by the back of his neck. Adrenaline surges through him as Tim devours his mouth, his tongue exploring every nook and cranny while all he can do is sit back and wait his turn. 

Which will come very quickly if he plays this right. 

Using his larger build and what he hopes is superior strength, Jason grips the back of Tim’s thighs and _lifts_ , shifting them around quickly so that the other man is seated on the counter. 

Tim breaks away from the kiss and grins from his new vantage point. “As much as this has its own possibilities, I think we need to move this party elsewhere.” He punctuates this by wrapping his legs around Jason’s trim waist. 

“Where do you have in mind?” Jason asks, resisting the urge to rock his hips against the tight press of his slacks. Tim is slightly too high up for him to get any friction against his aching cock. 

“Bed. You’ll be more comfortable passing out there when we’re done.” 

“Fair enough.” Jason sneaks a kiss against the side of Tim’s neck, his teeth pressing against the skin, but not hard enough to leave a mark. He’s never liked hickeys and he doesn’t know how Tim feels about them yet to risk leaving one. “But I have one very important question to ask.” 

“Yeah?” Tim asks, sounding breathless as Jason continues to mouth the side of his neck. 

“Did you bring condoms? Cuz I forgot to buy some earlier.” He really had. Sue him for having a one-track mind with his grocery shopping. Going down the aisle where the condoms are locked up isn’t something he typically does on a regular basis. 

Tim laughs as he pulls Jason’s head away from his neck with his gloved hand. “I did. And lube. And something else too.” 

“You mean besides candles? My apartment doesn’t stink that bad, does it?” Antigone’s litter box gets cleaned often but he can always tell when she takes a shit because it reeks until she buries it. 

“Not that.” Tim slides to the edge of the counter, balancing precariously on the edge using only Jason’s larger body to hold him in place. It doesn’t escape his notice that he can now thrust against the man’s leather clad body if he chooses to. He does and enjoys the raw desire that washes over Tim’s face. He does it again. The hand in his hair tightens after the third time so he stops. 

“What is it?” Jason asks when he remembers the original statement again. 

Tim gives him a small peck on the lips. “What do you think about handcuffs?” 

“They better be fuzzy and only after round one.” 

“Deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not saying no to this being a series anymore, but it will just be little interconnected oneshots. I have too many chapter stories in my life right now.


End file.
